Yin and Yang
by Neophiles the Metal
Summary: Two different robots, two opposite personalities, one cares, one kills, one protects...one destroys, but which one?
1. Chapter 1

A lab, broken from age and experience, lay crumbling in the barren Antarctic climate. Inside this lab lay broken glass, crumbled plaster scattered over the cold, unused floor and despite the absence of humanity wherever one should look, something walks...  
"Damn, it's cold...!" said a young voice, robot-like but filled with emotions "...gotta hurry up before my thrusters freeze over..."  
The voice stepped into the light, and if someone was watching they would've gasped in awe at the four foot seven robot, with a jet-black base coat and snow-white armour. To an experienced eye this robot looked like a boy, a Robot-Boy. The Robot-Boy appeared to be searching for something, an item perhaps?  
"Ah-ha, there you are...!" it shouted in triumph as it pulled two petrol canisters from beneath a work bench, he shook them both and was visibly delighted to hear a medium amount of the liquid sloshing around inside. It attached the canisters to clips on its back and pulled out a piece of crumpled paper...  
"Let me see, Lab Seven is where I am..." it muttered, referencing to a poorly drawn map that it held in its hand "...and I need to get to Lab Twenty-Three, wherever that is..."  
It let out an exasperated sigh, folding the paper roughly into its hand and with a heave of its thrusters contained within its legs, the Robot-Boy burst through the ceiling and into the cold arctic air. However as it headed to its supposed destination one of its engines faltered, sending the Robot-Boy out of control...  
"Aah, FLARES!" it shouted as a burst of light fired from its arm and into the darkened sky, where it exploded with a loud boom and illuminated the area in a dazzling red light. The Robot-Boy was less graceful, landing shoulder first into the snow and rolled across the cold. The Robot slowly heaved itself upright, staggering from the impact...  
"Damn, just when things were all well and good, this happens!" it cursed, checking the cans in case of spillage. Nothing but a few dents, but something else had caught its immediate attention. A long, dotted line of black oil had followed him from the impact site to where he had stopped rolling. The oil had come from its shoulder, which was covered in the thick, black liquid...  
"Bad to worse..." it muttered, gripping its damaged ligament and struggled into a hurried walk. The Robot-Boy had learnt that the oil kept its survival systems online, so losing it was like an un-tightening a screw, dangerous...  
"Gotta...keep moving..." it shuddered as it saw the warning on its processor...  
WARNING, SHUTDOWN IMINENT!  
As if in some sort of miracle, it saw people, so it shouted for help, and they came running to its aid.  
As it was bundled into a nearby lab, where it was laid onto a workbench, it saw with its fading eyesight...

LAB 23

...and as it was carefully shut down, it smiled...

...

...  
"Professor, I'm sorry to drag you from your work..."  
"It is my pleasure, what seems to be the problem?"  
"This robot, we found it near peninsula 12-B..."  
"This is odd..."  
"I'm sorry?"  
"...This robot is of identical design to one that I am building, so who could have the knowledge to create this one?"  
"Maybe we should ask it when it wakes, perhaps it could give us some answers?"  
"An idea at least on who could create such a thing..."  
"Activating support systems!"  
"Activating core databanks!"  
"Powering up in three, two, and one...!"

The Robot-Boy sat up with a jolt, its eyes ferociously analyzing anything in the room as if coming from a digital nightmare...  
"It's ok; it's ok..." calmed a large man in a smooth voice "We're not going to hurt you..."  
The robot looked at the three assembled faces; the large, middle-aged man that had calmed him had a bushy moustache that covered his entire top lip, the assumed Professor was presumably in his sixties, had tufts of white hair covering his head and a caring face, the other face was unknown because of a hood and balaclava that covered the face, but two shining blue eyes were visible through the snow- protective clothes...  
"Wha...Where am I?" it said, rubbing its arm.  
It stopped, looked at its fixed arm and glanced back at the three, getting down from off the table and holding its hand up to them...  
"Thanks..." it mumbled as the spindly Professor shook it warmly, before straightening up to gaze down on the Robot-Boy. The large man gave a small chuckle...  
"No need, uhh, what is your name?" he asked, his breath swirling in the Antarctic air. The Robot searched its data files for a suitable name, but found nothing...  
"I...don't have one..." it murmured, stubbing the floor with its foot. The people looked at each other and huddled into a group...  
"We can't just call it Robot..."  
"I have an idea; it revolves around a religion..."  
"We're not calling it a God-Bot!"  
"No, listen..."  
The Robot-Boy sat back on the bench, gazing round the room with mild fascination...  
_Wow..._ it thought as it twiddled its thumbs _...these people must like me, they're giving me a name!_  
After some whispering the three turned back to him, the Professor stepped forwards...  
"After some consideration, we have decided to call you..." he paused, enjoying the look on the awaiting robot's face "...Yang, after the Spirit of the Day."  
Yang gave a smile, nodding at the sound of his name...  
"Yang... I like it!" he cheered, flipping through the air in happiness and hitting his head on a light...  
"Be careful Yang...!" laughed the large man, moving forwards to stop the light from breaking off from the ceiling...  
"Sorry..." smirked Yang, clearly enjoying every minute of his new name...  
"I'm John by the way..." said the man, before indicating the blue eyed human with his thumb...  
"That's Trisha, she's mute." Yang waved at her, and she waved back without a word...  
"...and I..." started the Professor "...am Professor Moshimo..."

13: Great start Neo!  
23: _I agree; it's a tale worth telling...  
_Genocide: **Neophiles the Metal doesn't own the Robot-Boy series or characters, he's got me!  
**13: Why, what can you do?  
*Genocide trips*


	2. Chapter 2

_Data-Diary---Entry 21-2_

_I'm stuck here, stuck in this desolate land after damaging my thrusters._

_The General warned me about using my thrusters in heated conditions, perhaps this is my punishment._

_I am Productive Weapon Y-1N, I am a sophisticated battle mech built for reconnaissance and weapon deployment in hostile territories._

_I have been fitted with every kind of weapon known to mankind, most of which are cryogenically charged._

_I have been sent to dispose of a terrorist threat somewhere in the territory of Afghanistan, as my superiors have commanded..._

_...and I may have just found the site, closing data log and charging cryogenic cannons..._

...

...

Two terrorist members stood guard by a weapons cache, talking about the days events...  
"I hear that the boss heard that those UN scum are sending another clunky over to try and stop us..." said one, lighting a cigarette and passing the lighter to his comrade...  
"I don't get it, we only want our country back and they keep sending their troops in, thanks..." said the other, lighting up and taking a long awaited drag of the cigarette...  
"I hope that isn't pacifism I smell on you Abdul..." joked the first, plucking the lighter from Abdul's waiting hand and burying it somewhere in his robes...  
"Nah, 'Bring on the American Infidels!' is more of my taste, Achmed. You of all people know I like killing the scum..."  
"Sorry to interrupt your talk..." said a malicious voice from above them, a high pitch humming filled the air. Both terrorists looked up into the burning red eyes of a four foot seven Robot-Girl, white with sleek black armour and two cannons aimed directly at both of them...  
"...but 'Crappy Hour' is over..." it said monotonously as the humming ceased...  
"What the fu..." shouted Achmed and Abdul together, before being plastered to the opposite wall in a beam of ice. The Robot-Girl leapt down, rushing into cover as shouts of alarm echoed the area. It reached up to its head-turbines, small and rounded to a point, and activated her radio transmitter...  
"Sir, do you read me?" it asked, its arm switching to a machine gun...  
/_Report_/  
"I have located and breached the enemy compound; I am now awaiting orders..."  
/_Find cover, we are sending air support to assist with the clean up_/  
"Sir, pardon me but I don't believe that..."  
/_That is an order, soldier! Do your duty and take cover, Command-13 out_/  
and with that, the conversation was terminated. The Robot-Girl found a small alcove in a building, a place where it knew would be sturdy enough to hold off the shockwave that would come next...

...

The bombs came thick and fast, pummelling the ground around Y-1N with enough force to knock the Robot-Girl from its feet in a matter of seconds.  
All around, men were yelling and shouting over the explosions, trying to escape from the fury as Y-1N sat silently, ready to pick off any that wandered too close to its position.  
Then, almost as quickly as it came, the bombing stopped.  
Y-1N heard jets flying over, and the distant sound of machine guns indicated that they were attacking any survivors that had fled the camp.  
Dusting itself off, Y-1N opened her communications link...  
"Sir, bombing has passed and survivors are fleeing, am I clear to engage any stragglers?"  
/_Damn_/  
"Sir?"  
/_Y-1N that is a no-go, report back to base and let the Air Force take care of the rest_/  
"Yes Sir..."  
The Robot-Girl reproachfully terminated the conversation, activated her thrusters and began to head home...

...

"Sir, target is currently flying over the Atlantic ocean, permission to attack?"  
/Permission granted Squad leader, just get that thing out of the sky/  
"Yes sir."

...

Y-1N flew across the stormy water, wondering to itself about why it wasn't allowed to engage.  
Suddenly two military jets appeared on opposite sides of it, ones it recognised as F-22's.  
They began to get closer, their wings rising until they were mere inches from its body when suddenly...  
SMACK!  
Both wings slammed into the Robot-Girl, knocking it into the water.  
Y-1N struggled to stay afloat, finding itself slowly sinking into the grey water...  
"Squad Leader... (Cough)...mayday!"  
The planes rounded and began to fire their guns, bullets punching its metallic shell as it struggled to stay afloat.  
One smashed through its chest armour, puncturing its power-core.  
Y-1N felt its body sink, its visuals fading, sounds getting dimmer and as it reached the bottom of the ocean, Y-1N...died...

**Forgive me if it's not as good as the last one, I'm having an inspirational crisis!  
Neophiles the Metal, HELP!**


End file.
